


Ruin Our Friendship (We Should Be Lovers Instead)

by korynn



Category: Fall Out Boy
Genre: Crossdressing, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-05-06
Updated: 2013-05-06
Packaged: 2017-12-10 14:03:03
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,610
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/786860
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/korynn/pseuds/korynn
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Unconventional Cupids and boys who're sick of playing innocent.</p><p>(Or the one time Cosmo Tips got it right)</p>
            </blockquote>





	Ruin Our Friendship (We Should Be Lovers Instead)

**Author's Note:**

> okay actually not super porny (i'm going to write a sequel for this one I PROMISE ITS ALREADY FORMING IN MY HEAD)
> 
> but uh
> 
> [lingerie set](http://24.media.tumblr.com/751c66bae133c9ab36098bc351deef83/tumblr_mm5zsgpFbv1qdy3ieo1_500.jpg) and the [dress](http://www.wholesale7.net/images/201303/goods_img/73016_P_1363076579459.jpg)

Head tucked down, teeth peeling off layer after layer of skin from his bottom lip, Patrick is a slightly very much nervous wreck in their hotel bathroom.

He can hear his phone going off from the nightstand and can hear the tv blaring next door (Joe, being Joe, being deaf and being a good friend. The only reason he's even capable of doing this is because of Joe, if he had to be honest).

Patrick taps at his MacBook until music is washing out most of the noise, and singing along with Daft Punk was not how he saw his evening going but he spent hours, weeks, putting this together and there's no way he's backing out now.

It’s one of the rare, few times they actually have a hotel room (not a motel room, they’ve actually upgraded since then, thank god for labels and actually having money behind their names), so Patrick’s not gonna put this off for a later date, he can’t now. This would be impossible to try on the buses, there’s no way he could even get Pete to leave him alone long enough for him to do his makeup right.

That, and Pete would probably try to help. Which, hah, no. Not going to happen. He’s got enough nerves as it is.

Shaking hands through hair and whining a little, making noises because he can’t really back out now, trying to get himself to not actually throw up from how absolutely panicked he is about this. Patrick hasn’t felt like this in years, since the first time he accidentally might’ve spilled his feelings out to Joe (thank god it wasn’t actually the one he’s doing this for, because...well. He wouldn’t be doing this tonight, that’s for sure. Wouldn’t be able to stand being in the band, probably, because he was just that freaked out by his own feelings).

He’s a little older now, and maybe, just maybe, this won’t blow up in his face.

Shimmying into the lacy lingerie is actually not that much of a problem, he’s been wearing this sort of stuff for years now (no where the band can see it, he’s not that much of an idiot). It’s new, a little tight, and not as comfortable of some of the other things he’s worn, but he likes the color, likes the way it fits him. Strapless, not completely trashy, and might not completely disgust Andy. Soon as his name flits through Patrick’s thoughts, Patrick has to sit down for a moment, hands covering his face.

Shit, **Andy**.

He has no idea how the drummer is even going to react to this. They’re not even together, for hell’s sake. Why is this a good idea?

Oh, yeah, Patrick actually is an idiot. But he likes dressing up, and he trusts Andy enough that even if this doesn’t play out the way he wants it to, he can believe that Andy won’t tell anyone. Won’t make a big deal about it.

He hopes.

Untangling his hands out of his hair, from where he’s curled in on himself trying to suck in deep breathes, Patrick reaches out and switches songs, cranks up the volume some more, and grins at his reflection. Fuck this, he’s not going to stress this. He wants to be pretty, he hasn’t been able to in what feels like years. If anyone has a problem with it, they can go back to their own room.

So what if he’s unconventional in the things he enjoys? No one’s normal, and he sure as hell isn’t going to try and pretend otherwise. He’s put too much time and effort into tonight. Can’t back down now.

(If only he had this level of confidence when they first became a band, right?)

Pulling fresh, nude stockings out of their packaging, Patrick is going all new for this. He couldn’t trust Pete enough to pack anything of his own, so he’s surrounded by shopping bags. But that’s part of the fun, really, isn’t it?

Patrick rolls on the stockings, gives a look to the garter belt and decides he might come back to that, if he really needs it. He doesn’t want it too be too much work if they actually....well. He’s got wishful thinking, that’s all.

Dress is next. It’s a bit of a workout to get into without help, but he manages, laughing, a muttered “Fuck yes” at how well it fits. How good he looks already. Patrick’s missed this. Missed seeing himself when he looks in the mirror and enjoying it. This isn’t really something he could bring up, make normal. The band’s already got enough on their hands with Pete, let alone a crossdressing, “drag queen”, singer. He hates that term, doesn’t have anything against those who love it, but it’s not him. He’s two people inside one body. It’s more than dolling up, more than dresses and heels for him.

Yeah, he’s going all out. Patrick’s even got shoes. Those, he almost wants to not bother with, especially with Andy, who is only taller than him by a few inches. But he slips them on and just can’t say no to keeping them on. White, tiny little mary janes, and Patrick’s never been more grateful for his small feet, for his nice calves. For pale skin, once he brushes the skirt of all it’s wrinkles from being in the bag and sees it all put together.

He’s so tempted to just stay in the bathroom, with it’s floor to ceiling mirrors. Patrick’s not at Pete’s level of narcissism, though, and this, tonight, isn’t just for him. He wants to be seen.

One day, if he’s lucky, he might actually be able to go out in public like this, but for now, a hotel room might just be enough.

Patrick doesn’t have the face for wigs, at least he doesn’t want to, and, really, he enjoys hair pulling too much. There’s him being hopeful again. Can’t help it, this night has been stuck on repeat, every “what-if” he can think of running in the forefront of his mind.

But, now, he doesn’t have to wonder what-if anymore, because he can hear Andy’s ringtone cutting in through the beeps of emails, tweets, and texts and he grins one last time at his reflection, makeup just some eyeshadow, mascara, and lipstain, but it’s enough for him. He’s seen the girls Andy’s wandered off with over the years, and knows he doesn’t have to overdo it. That, and he doesn’t want to. He’s pretty enough on his own.

Oh, the miracles that a good dress will do to one’s confidence.

Shrugging a little, shaking off the last bit of nerves still clinging to his spine, Patrick opens the door, reaching out to yank Andy in by his shirt and being quick to shut the door behind him.

“Whoa, hey!” Andy’s eyes are wide and he’s holding onto Patrick’s shoulders, startled by the manhandling, but now he’s actually looking and- and Patrick can’t see his reaction, his eyes immediately squeezed shut in embarrassment when Andy’s grip tightened.

“This...is new.” Andy’s comment is quiet, barely a whisper, barely words at all. His grip squeezes, then loosens so he can slide hands down, still holding on at the wrist but Patrick can tell Andy’s taken a step back, can feel his gaze slide down and back up. “What brought this on? A dare?”

Patrick knows, knows he’s turning bright red now, but he can’t get himself to stop, or open his eyes to see him. Fuck, and he was doing so well until now. “No. Uh. This is...I-I wanted-”

“Oh.” Andy doesn’t even let him finish, just shakes his hand, lets go of one wrist to brush a thumb over one cheek. “Looks good. Why...hmm..” Andy pauses, and Patrick opens his eyes at that, blinking slowly and gaze fighting to focus at first. He has his bottom lip between his teeth, brows raised a little, and Andy actually looks stunned. “Why are you showing me this?”

“I wanted to. I had this idea. That...now that you’re actually here, I realize was so incredibly fooli-” He’s cut off again, and Patrick can’t help glaring this time, because Andy’s laughing, smirk almost there as he steps forward again, moving both hands to his face, tilting Patrick’s head and just peering at him.

“What happened to my cardigans and bow-ties Patrick?” Andy jokes, and Patrick feels all the nerves he might’ve had just pool down to his feet, because this is actually better than most of his what-if’s. (He can’t say all, because there were some that were pretty unrealistic but a boy can dream, can’t he?)

“Still here, just seeing the new...well, other side of him.”

Andy’s eyes go wide again, and Patrick wants to lick the gap between his teeth when he grins at him. God, this dress makes him want to say fuck it, and just do it. But he grins back, tongue in cheek, biting down so he doesn’t actually say these thoughts out loud.

“This isn’t new? Oh, damn. Fuck, wish I could’ve seen this sooner. You were probably the most adorable little girl. Please tell me you did the school girl outfit at least once?”

Andy looks hopeful, and Patrick just grins, shaking his head in disbelief at how well, how much better, this is going. Stepping back, he makes his way to his phone, which has been constant noise as per usual, and turns it off, before sitting down at the edge of his bed, having to not laugh at Andy’s face.

Oh god, he looks guilty. Like staring at Patrick’s ass, his legs, was something Patrick didn’t want him to do. “Come here.” He murmurs, patting the mattress.

“You...you’re evil, you know that?” Andy’s the one blushing now, but he complies, hands unable to keep to themselves it seems, because they go back to touching, a hand on the nape of his neck and the other on a stocking-covered knee, which flinches at the slick feeling.

“Holy shit, Patrick.”

This time, he does laugh, relaxing into Andy’s touch. “I don’t know where everyone got this idea I’m perfect, angelic, because I’m definitely not.”

“I can see that. Holy fucking hell, I can see that. This is for me? Seriously? Just me?” Andy’s leaning in, and Patrick nods, because there’s intent on the others face that he doesn’t want to ruin with a mindless response. Like “of course, you dumbass”, which is fighting to spill from his mouth.

The kiss to his jaw is still unexpected, the fingers sliding up to tug at the elastic of his stocking startle him. Patrick doesn’t pull away, or even flinch, just uncrosses his legs, pushing their thighs together and making a low noise, the beginnings of a moan when Andy hooks his fingers into the elastic, tugging it down and laying a warm palm on the soft skin of his upper thigh.

“Wish I could’ve seen you get ready.” Mumbled into his neck as Andy leans closer, thumb pushing at his throat to tilt him back, their first kiss nothing more than a brush of lips. “But this...it’s like unwrapping a gift...” His voice is shaky, and maybe Patrick isn’t the only one who might have been freaking out over this.

“There’s always next time.” Patrick leans back all the way, toeing off his shoes while Andy groans into his shoulder. The stocking gets fixed, put back into place, hand moving up farther to brush knuckles against lace. “Oh, fuck.” Growled into a kiss, Andy moves, setting Patrick into his lap, both hands on his face as he just devours, licks away the last of the lip color and just making a mess. Patrick’s never kissed anyone with mouth piercings before, so the tongue stud, even though he knows it’s there, still shocks him, gets him to gasp when it clicks against his teeth.

“Next time? You’re fucking. Trying to kill me. You. Please. I want to show this off, you’re so fuckin’ gorgeous, Patrick. Beautiful.”

Patrick whines, rocks down at Andy’s words, pushing hands up under the t-shirt to get at inked skin. “Please.” It’s all he can get out, burning up so quickly already. The clothes give him a thrill on their own, but hearing, having Andy underneath him, it’s enough for him to feel barely nineteen again, all awkward smiles and the worst crush on both the older members of his band, still in disbelief that they even want him around.

He has a flash of a an old memory, how Andy was so awkward when they first started, when he wasn’t officially their drummer, and Pete couldn’t decide who he wanted to hang all over first, so he’d constantly gripe about how he wished they were one person.

Pete’s thoughts were a strange place, but Patrick...he might think Pete was on to something, because Andy just knows where to touch, what to say.

He digs his nails in when Andy pushes his hips up, groans and pushes him down to grind down, slick gym shorts and lace panties making the strangest noise when rubbed together. Not that either one of them hears it.

Andy’s hands are quickly becoming Patrick’s favorite thing, warm and soft as they slide up and down his arms, before moving him back, sitting him up. “Let...let me.” Fumbling with the zipper at the back of the dress, Patrick can’t resist making it difficult, leaning back down and licking as he bares Andy’s chest, following inked patterns and laughing when Andy snarls. “Tiny little fuckin’...”

They eventually get it unzipped enough for Andy to pull it off him, and he just stares once he does, because Patrick’s strapless matching bandeau and panty set is...so fucking virginal looking.

“So much white. Are you sure you’re not lying when you say you’re innocent?” He teases, rolling them back over so he has that pale, unmarked skin underneath him. Patrick’s managed to get his shirt off by now, so the lace of the top rubs against his chest as he grinds down, and it’s sending his brain mixed signals. Signals that burst, double, when they do connect. Patrick in lace, in a _bra_ , is killing him. He never knew how much he wanted it until he saw it.

Laughing, Patrick shakes his head, getting hands under shorts and getting a good grip to grind back up to. “Well, yes and no? I’ve...experimented with guys...but...not...never fucked...” He’s been laid, yeah, but he’s. Well. Guys are still new to him.

Andy’s head thumps against the pillow beside Patrick’s head at those last few words, groaning into cotton before shifting to face him, everything out of focus at this close. “Sometimes I forget that before us, you rarely left your mother’s basement. Jesus, how did we miss this, though?” This being a hand on his leg, sliding up and down the slick material of the stocking.

“Oh, Pete’s the only one that doesn’t know now. Joe’s...Joe.”

The hand stops, clenches for a moment. “Joe’s...what?”

Patrick blinks, rolls onto his side, leg and arm sliding to hold Andy down. “Joe convinced me to talk to you, saved me from my own disgusting thoughts. He’s why I’m even...”

“He helped you set this up, he knew you were....wanted...” Slightly silly smile, it seems their half-sentences were enough. They’ve never really had to fight to understand one another.

“He fucking played Cupid. That’s...adorable.”

Patrick chuckles, smothering it with a kiss on Andy’s shoulder. “Yeah, I guess he did.”


End file.
